


All You Can Do Is Try

by S3C



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Relationship Advice, Stupid oblivious idiots, lots and lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S3C/pseuds/S3C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Courfeyrac crawls into 'Ferre's bed asking about love, Combeferre tries not to be hurt, he really does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Can Do Is Try

**Author's Note:**

> I dont even really know what this is. I can't tell whether its worse than usual but i found it saved on my laptop from ages ago, so i may as well put it up. Its really short, sorry. Also the spacing is weird. Sorry.

“What are you doing???” Combeferre felt something shift onto his bed, illuminated by the chink of light flowing through his door from the entrance of his friend. 

“'Mm cold ‘Ferre.” Courfeyrac whispered, pulling up the covers and shuffling himself under them. 

“Okay then.” Combeferre smiled fondly, shifting over in his bed slightly to accommodate his friend.

After a moment, Courfeyrac whispered:   
“’Ferre?”  
“Courf’,” Combeferre whispered good-naturedly  
Courfeyrac nuzzled into Ferre’s neck, hesitant. 

“What?” Combeferre looked down at his friend.

Courfeyrac creased his brow and rolled his eyes and Combeferre mimicked him. In retaliation, Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out, so Combeferre stuck his tongue out too. 

“What were you saying Courf?” he cajoled after the man in question went back to hibernating in Combeferre’s pyjama shirt. “Courf?” He elbowed his friend.   
Courfeyrac looked up, panic and wariness written across his face, completely exposed and unprotected and it made Combeferre’s heart melt. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone, ‘Ferre?” He asked, barely speaking, but still the words hung in the silence. Trying to ignore the feeling in his gut which could be likened to someone stabbing him multiple times in the abdomen, Combeferre tried to formulate an answer. Before he could, Courfeyrac became bolder, and spoke again.   
“I mean really love them. Not like a crush or anything. Really really love someone?” He looked hopeful, like Combeferre could somehow provide all the answers to his endless questions.

Combeferre let his head drop back on his pillow. 

“I don’t know Courf. Have you tried talking to them?” He suggested wearily. 

“But that’s scary” Courfeyrac’s voice sounded so small.   
“Well love is scary.” Combeferre tried to be sympathetic; really he was trying his hardest. 

“But what if they don’t love me back?” Courfeyrac asked desperately. Combeferre tried to pull himself together and actually assist his friend who was struggling.   
“Well do I know them? I might be able to help.” Courfeyrac just shook his head into the sheets. 

“Courf, listen to me, all you can do is try.” Combeferre sat up, twisting Courfeyrac round to look at him. Courfeyrac gave him an aggrieved look for a moment, before nodding slightly, and darting forward slightly to kiss ‘Ferre on the lips. Both froze, wide eyes locked, neither one wanting to move first, Courfeyrac flustering that he had overstepped his boundaries, Combeferre still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing.  

“Well I tried.” Courfeyrac sadly smiled, eyes damp as he shifted back in order to get off the bed, but before Combeferre knew what he was doing he lurched forward, grasping Courfeyrac and pulling him back down onto the bed with him, because all he knew in those moments is that if he let him go now, it might be forever. And Combeferre wasn’t willing to let that happen. 

“You tried.” Agreed ‘Ferre after a moment of stunned silence. “And if you don’t mind, I’d really like to kiss you again now.”   
Courfeyrac, stunned beyond coherency, barely had time to nod before Combeferre was upon him again, kissing him hungrily, heart fluttering wildly. Beneath him, he could feel Courfeyrac’s beating out a similar tattoo. He flopped down on top of him, breathing heavily, forehead pressed against his so he was still able to press chaste kisses all over Courfeyrac’s face, so he could still kiss the blush off his cheeks or taste the freckles on his nose. 

“How long?” Courfeyrac asked reverently, twisting his fingers round a lock of Ferre’s hair, staring intently at it so he wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.   
Combeferre exhaled slowly. “Too long. I realised about a year or two ago, but honestly I think I have loved you longer than that. I think,” Combeferre smiled to himself. “I think I fell in love with you in Latin class.” Courfeyrac laughed too at that. 

“I have loved you since I met you.” Courfeyrac finished the sentence with a kiss, so that Combeferre could taste his reverential words.   
They stayed like that a few minutes more, content in the arms of each other, until Courfeyrac eloquently asked:

“So is this, uh, are we a, uh, is this, uh, y’know, gonna be….. regular? ‘Cos, I mean, I’d really like it to be.” He stuttered his way through the sentence, blushing furiously, which Combeferre found a great deal more adorable than he should.   
“All you can do is try.” Combeferre whispered seriously.   
And then they both dissolved into a euphoric, indulgent laughter.


End file.
